“It’s a good thing that we haven’t got the toboggan to pull up here,” Jack panted as they stopped for a breathing spell about half way to the top.
“You said a lot then,” Bob agreed. “It’s hard work enough pulling ourselves up here. When we get to the top I’m going to climb a tree. It seems to me that we ought to be able to see the lake from there, that is if there aren’t any more hills in the way. My, but this is a pretty wild country all right.
“Wild is right,” Jack agreed. “You’d think there was enough timber right here in Maine to supply the world for the next hundred years.
“You’d think so but I guess they’re cutting it off a good bit faster than it grows.” Bob said as he started off again.
It took them the better part of an hour to reach the top of the range and both were breathing hard when, with a sigh of relief, Bob threw his pack to the ground and sank down upon it.
“Wait till I get my breath back and I’ll get up that tall spruce and see what I can see,” he said.
Jack quickly followed his example and for some moments neither boy spoke. But Bob soon got his wind back and, getting up, announced that he was ready for the climb.
“Guess I might as well go along,” Jack declared as he swung himself into the lower branches, followed by Bob.
It was a beautiful vision which unfolded itself to them as they paused well up toward the top of the lofty spruce and peered out between the branches. No less than a half dozen lakes, some large and others small, could be seen, all but one free of ice. Over toward the northwest the waters of a large river sparkled like silver as the rays of the morning sun struck it.
“That’s the St. Lawrence,” Bob pointing with his hand.